The Sex Planner
Throughout my University career I didn’t keep one organized notebook for even half a semester. I am a procrastinator and a proud one at that. Lord knows, when I pulled even a remotely decent mark I’d boast all around, parading the fact that I studied for only 2 hours before the professor told us to flip the exam papers and write down our names and student ID numbers (never memorized until this day – I think my name is Anna?)
My formula sheets resembled some of the finest excavated art from the Egyptian pyramids and my textbooks smelled like Snookie’s book in a Chapters store – practically untouched; they were mostly used as coasters for my coffee. This way of life is consistent in most aspects of my being.
My work desk is always a mess. My computer desk at home has a mix of nail clippings, bank statements and cereal bar wrappers with the expiry year of 2009 stamped on them. My friends always complain I break plans because I forget I made them, and the only reminders on my Blackberry Calendar are birthdays of mostly strangers and people I don’t give a f*ck about from my Facebook “friends” list.
And you best believe I’m that bitch in front of you at the drive-thru you want to see turn purple, salivating while staring at the menu with no rush, because I never know what I want to order until after I get my change back, and sometimes only after I’ve already eaten my meal.
Obviously if you look at my resume I don’t mention this, I’m not a complete imbecile and don’t have my handicapped permit (yet – it’s in process), because I know when it comes to important things in life, such as sex, I am the perfect intern for the job.
If there is one thing I know how to “plan” for and be prepared for, is some naked body wrestling.
Men are good at planning their Superbowl event and I’m good at planning my Suckingball event. I think of myself as an athlete...I prepare and condition my body to the best of my ability so I could impress the judges with my incredible performance.
Mind conditioning is also important, that’s why I listen to Marvin Gaye on repeat every night before sleep. Especially around spring time when I know statistically I’m more sexually active (yes I’ve collected data and analyzed it), I know to always be primp with sharp instincts as booty calls come my way. My dedication to the soon to be Olympic sport (also in process) is impressive to say the least.
It all starts with a list. Some people have grocery lists and some people have packing lists, and this one crazy bitch I know has a list of lists. I am a different kind of crazy, I’m the one with the pre-sex lists that I keep in the only organized notebook I’ve ever owned.
I'd like to share some of the bulletins on these lists:
Every athlete has his equipment and you might have a Cock brand bat that’s been passed around several teammates and my aim is to only make contact with it with a glove on (STDs are not a joke – unless it happens to someone else). Oh yeah and pregnancy too – I’d be a horrible mother – not like Casey Anthony – but still.
Body hair maintenance – this includes and not limited to: bleaching, plucking, waxing, lasering, trimming, shaving, styling (if you’re a freak like me).
Always ensure to have mints or gum in purse , whiten teeth if you have 30 minutes before your date, and don’t forget to brush and floss your teeth twice daily because pirate teeth are only sexy to those whose bodily fluids are 70% rum.
Exfoliating, scrubbing, lathering – my body may be a Wonderland but it’s not a school trip to the reptilian zoo – unless it’s your snake we are talking about. Facials – pre-sex blue mask and post-sex white mask; only organic of course.
Clip, file, paint. Let’s be real here, after feeling my mouth wrapped around your cock with my hand at the base of it – just like kinder egg toys, you’ll never want these disassembled – and taking that into consideration you’ll probably mostly remember my hands when you later fantasize about me, and I don’t want the image of bear claws around the neck of a tuna fish tail stuck in your brain – it ain’t pretty unless it’s on the discovery channel.
I want to have the least articles of clothing as possible. When clothes get thrown in the air I want to be able to gather them and go. This isn’t a sleep over – like a criminal I want to hit and run.
Injuries are completely avoidable if you take the time to stretch. Also when you spread open like the red sea at the sight of Moses you don’t want to ache and pull as he inserts his walking stick in you.
This is a snapshot of a list that sometimes gets modified. Sometimes I need to buy accessories and I will add that bulletin, but that’s only for second dates.
As I write this I reassure myself I am not a complete mess, and if I applied all this energy and dedication to my courses I wouldn’t have to hide my marks from my parents, and that had to be done since not all my professors wanted to risk their jobs for a chance to hit this fancy ass (a story for another day).
I always get my 10, 10, 10 on the score board – and if I don’t...you know it’s the Cock’s fault for missing his sure hit.
Anna Shul | Elite.